American Horror Story: Tombstone
by Connor J. Lockhart
Summary: In the Wild West, during a turbulent time in America's history, a humble rancher, a man from another state, and a barmaid are brought into a whirlwind of an adventure in the hallowed town of Tombstone. Here is how three people went from relatively ordinary people to legends of their own.


In the outskirts of the town of Tombstone, a flock of cattle chewed on the grass for which they got their nutrition. All of a sudden, one bull heard hooves clopping heavily. The herd of cattle ran as far and fast as they could, but a man on a black mustang caught up with them. He readied his lasso and aimed for the neck of a particular bull, threw it, and managed to catch him. The rest of the herd ran away, but this bull would do for the young rancher.

The bull was led back to the cowboy's ranch on the border of Tombstone. It was a rickety cabin, a common look for its time. An old man with a blind left eye was waiting.

"Another one for the ranch, papa." the cowboy announced.

"Nice, job, my son!" the cowboy's father jovially replied, "That's a mighty fine bull that you got there."

"Thanks for the gratitude." Carl smiled, "Now, I'll bring this boy to Bart's ranch and get my pay. How about a trip to the bar later?"

The old man stood up and smiled. "Well," he uttered, "a shot of Jack Daniels wouldn't hurt no-one, although I don't think I could take it well."

"Just a sip, then. Come on, get on Sable's back."

Carl's father mounted the black steed's back and they both rode off to the ranch of Bart Montgomery, bringing the recently-caught bull with them.

"Hey, mister Montgomery!" Carl called.

An older man, about the age of Carl's father, peered his head out of the window. It was Bart. "What have ya got this time, Carly?" he responded.

"I got a new bull for your ranch."

Bart put his head back in and then came out of the building. His sharp eyes pierced the twosome as usual.

"So," Bart drawled, "you got a new bull here?"

"Yes, mister Montgomery."

Bart inspected the bull. It was the right combination of muscle and fat, perfect for meat and breeding. It's long and sharp horns indicated that it could defend itself against any bandits. Bart reached into his pocket, and gave Carl a few dollars.

"I have a gut feeling that you'll drink that money, Carly."

"Only moderately, mister Montgomery."

"Earl."

"Yes?" Carl's father responded.

"Don't take more than a sip."

Earl cracked a smile on his face. "I won't."

Bart smirked. "For some reason, I don't believe ya." Bart's head turned towards Carl. "Be back here in an hour."

"Don't worry, mister Montgomery." Carl tipped his hat. "I will."

The duo of Carl and Earl left the ranch and went into the town, riding towards the popular Crystal Palace Saloon. As always, the tables were full of people talking to each other, playing poker, and, most commonly, drinking their heads off, making a futile attempt to woo the barmaid. Carl and Earl entered the building, where the barmaid was ready to serve them both.

Carl placed his dollars on the bar counter. "A shot of Jack Daniels for me, a sip for him." Carl requested.

"I am not hearing a certain word, cow wrangler." The barmaid retorted.

Carl sighed. "Please."

The barmaid smiled. "A shot and sip coming up, monsieur Pickett."

She poured some cold Jack Daniels in both a sip glass and a shot glass. She only took one of Carl's dollars from the counter.

"This is all you need to pay, straw-hat." the barmaid remarked.

"Thank you, Mimi." Carl said as he and Earl drink their drinks. "You always manage to have your drinks cool, even at this time of year. How'd ya keep doing it?"

Mimi smiled. "A great secret that I can't tell you, bouvier."

Carl put his shot glass back on the counter. "Well, we best be on our way. I got called to be at a ranch in an hour, and I gotta get my pops home to rest."

"He ain't wrong." Earl butted in.

"See ya, barkeep."

"Au revoir, ranchman."

Carl and Earl both left the saloon. Carl rode all the way back home to drop off Earl.

"Well papa," Carl began, "I gotta get to mister Montgomery's place. The hour will fly quickly if I don't get back."

"I know how Bart is." Earl responded, "I think it's for the best if you get back there as quick as ya can."

"I know, papa. I know." Carl turned Sable around to go to the ranch. "See ya, pops."

"See ya, my boy."

Carl rode off to the ranch, where Bart was waiting. He looked at his pocket watch. "A half-hour earlier than asked." he noted, looking back up at Carl, "You really wanted to get back here as fast as I could."

"Well, I took my papa's advice." Carl replied, "Can't risk getting' myself fired."

"Come with me for a minute."

"Alright, mister Montgomery."

Both men went into the ranch building, all the way to Bart's room.

"So, d'ya you know why you're here, Carly?" Bart asked.

"No." Carl answered, "Why did you lead me to this place."

"I'm informin' ya that you're goin' to have a new dance partner for your work."

"Nice. Gettin' someone to get cattle quicker can only be a good thing."

"Yeah." Bart scratched the back of his head, "I heard he has a... behavioral issue around people like you."

"Lemme guess, son of a slave-owner?"

"Yup. From Alabama too."

"Well, that's unsurprising."

"Well, hopefully he comes 'round to his senses. You're one good ranchman, Carly, but if I want to really get this ranch off the ground, I need a few more men like you. Race is unimportant to me."

"Alright." Carl stood up, "Let's meet my new tango partner."

Bart and Carl went out to the open plains themselves. The newcomer was waiting.

"You're serious?" the newcomer scoffed, "Pair me up with my real partner!"

"I am." Bart retorted, "Here is Carl Pickett, one of the best cowboys I've ever encountered." Bart turned his head towards Carl. "Carl, this is your new partner, Arnold Stiles."

"Oh my dear god, you're serious. My partner's a negro!"

"And my partner's a slave-owner's kid, and I'm sure that won't affect your ranching performance."

"Oh, trust me. I'm a better rancher than you."

"Well," Bart patted on Carl's back, "Here's hoping that youse will get along."

"Don't worry," Carl stared at Arnold, "I'll get 'im in line."

"Hmph."

"Now boys, get me some cattle!"

Carl and Arnold both rode off to get cattle for Bart's ranch. As they left, Bart heard a voice from behind. It was Mimi.

"Monsieur Montgomery!" she yelled, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Oh hey, Mimi." Bart responded, "Why are ya here?"

"If you could tell me where monsieur Pickett is, I have something for him!"

Bart pointed to his northwestern point. "I sent 'em that way."

"Merci!" Mimi ran off as fast as she could.

"What the hell, Mimi?!"

"No time to explain!"

Meanwhile, in the open plains, Carl was teaching Arnold about catching cattle.

"Okay," Carl began, "see that herd over there?"

"Uh-huh." Arnold answered.

"Take a look at the cows and bulls of that herd."

"Why not the calves?"

"Too small and unwieldly. You'll need to go for the bigger and slower ones. They may be quick, but our steeds are quicker."

"Yeah, I knew that."

"Bullshit. I can tell by your face that this is new to ya."

"I don't need talks from you, black man!"

"If you're only focusing on pointless crap, you're not gonna be able to be focused enough to catch cattle." Carl turned his head towards the herd, "We're tryin' to catch some females this time. We've got just bulls at the ranch at the moment. The females will give birth to young and produce milk. Keep an eye out for udders."

"Gotcha." Arnold turned his head towards the herd, "Let's catch 'em and get pai-"

"Monsieur Pickett!" Mimi screamed from a distance, scaring away the herd.

Carl and Arnold turned around towards Mimi. "What the hell, Mimi?!" Carl yelled, "Ya scared off the goddamn herd!"

"Sorry, monsieur Pickett." Mimi breathily replied, "I got some news for you."

"Some news?" Arnold butted in, "What could that be?"

"Monsieur Pickett..."

"Call me Carl."

"Apologies. Carl, your father is dead!"

"What?"

"I saw him drop his pocket watch. I took it and tried to bring it back to him. When I saw him, he was..." Mimi could not continue speaking without nearly puking. She swallowed said vomit back down. "...hanged, drawn, and quartered. His insides were on the floor."

Carl was silent for a moment, then turned to Arnold. "Sorry, but I gotta go." He uttered before riding away as fast as he could.

"Holy shit." Arnold solemnly spoke, "His papa got gutted, huh?"

"Oui."

"I can't imagine my own papa bein' hanged and gutted. I feel sorry for the negro. It would be the same feeling for someone like me."

"Neither could I."

Carl was riding his horse to his home. "What the hell, Carl?!" Bart yelled, "Where's my cattle?!"

"No time!" Carl yelled back.

"Why do people keep saying that to me?!"

Carl got back to his home and saw his gutted father, crucified to a birch cross. He couldn't speak nor believe it. His father, for whom he spent his life with, had been killed. He held his head down in sorrow, and then in anger, and finally in acceptance. He rode back to where he was meant to be, where Arnold and Mimi were there.

"I see youse were having a nice talk." Carl spoke with sorrow.

Arnold got off of his horse to console Carl. "I'm sorry for your loss." Arnold said, "I would never imagine anyone I loved having that horrid fate."

"Well, now I know, and I learnt it the hard way." Carl turned his head towards Mimi. "How'd you know where my me and my papa were?"

"It was a feeling I got when I touched the watch." Mimi admitted, "It followed me to him, and then to you."

"Odd. Anyways, Arnold, let's get back to getting some cows."

"Carl, you shouldn't be working at this time. You're at the early stages of grievin'."

"No. A job's a job." Carl tipped his hat, "I'll grieve later."

"I'll have to get back to my job as well. Au revoir, ranchmen."

"Bye, Mimi."

Mimi walked all the way back to the saloon while the two cowboys rode off to find and catch some cattle.

A couple of hours later, they managed to catch some female cows for the bulls. They got their pay from Bart and went to the saloon, just as it was about to close for the night.

"Oh," Mimi said, "I was not expecting customers this late."

"Well, a drink wouldn't hurt." Carl replied.

"A Jack Daniels shot and a glass of root beer, please."

"Root beer? I don't get requested that very often."

As Mimi was filling the glasses of Carl and Arnold, Bart came in.

"Hey." he spoke.

"Hey." everyone else replied.

"I'm just wondering." Arnold began, "Why're you here?"

"To catch up on Carly over there." Bart pointed at Carl, "So, Earl's dead, huh?"

"Yeah." Carl replied, "Hanged, drawn, an' quartered, I saw."

Bart was panicking on the inside. "Ah shit."

"What is it, monsieur Montgomery?" Mimi asked.

Bart sighed. "Follow me."

Carl, Arnold, and Mimi all followed Bart all the way back to his home, where he had shown them some old newspapers, one with the lead story being "Notorious Killer Alistair Williamson Captured."

"Alistair Williamson." Bart began, "Slippery ol' serial killer. Big ol' fan of slavery. Me and Earl caught him many years ago. You wanna know his sign?"

The three visitors nodded.

"He strung up his victims, gutting them and cutting them in quarters, or as Carl put it, hanged, drawn, and quartered. He killed himself in prison by suffocatin' himself. Saw it myself and tried to stop it, but I was too slow."

"Why'd ya bring him up?" Arnold asked.

"Good question. I think there might be a copycat killer runnin' amock."

"Either that or he tricked you all those years ago." Mimi piped up.

"Bein' fair, he did elude us for a decade or two." Bart then had a small epiphany. "Maybe me and Earl didn't catch him."

"So you're saying you got the wrong guy?" Carl questioned.

"We might have." Bart looked back up at the trio, "I'm gonna ask you to stay here for a few nights. You all seem like a bright bunch, so I'll teach y'all how to be gunmen and hunt down that guttin' bastard once and for all."

"Honey," A female voice hollered in the background, "have ya brought strangers into the house again? You DO remember what happened last time, don't ya?"

"Sorry, guys." Bart turned his head towards the sound, "It's okay, Mary! I know these guys!"

"Have you at least got supplies to feed Charlie and Joe?"

"I never forget, Mary."

Mary came out of a room to get towards Bart. "God damn it, Bart." she exasperatedly sighed, "Why'd ya bring out the papers again?" Mary then looked at the young trio, Also, what the hell are these kids doing here?"

"Sorry, Mary. This is Carl, my most trusted herder."

"Hey."

"This is Arnold. He's new here, and trying to get along with Carl."

"Hey, I sympathized with the negro's dad getting' gutted."

Carl elbowed Arnold. "Not now." He whispered.

"An' this is Mimi, the barmaid."

"Bonjour, madam."

"I brought 'em here for a task."

"An' you don't even have supplies for our kids."

"No worries, the store doesn't close yet. Just let me sort this, and I'll get food afterwards."

"Alright." Mary looked at the youth, "Youse better not get yourselves into some shit."

Mary went back.

"Anyways, you all better get home. Meet me at the ranch in the mornin'."

The young ones all said goodnight to Bart and all went to Carl's house to bury Earl.

"Don't worry," Mimi said, "We'll get whoever gutted your father."

"I'm not focusing on that at the moment." Carl replied, "I'll try to get myself over my papa's murder. I'll not forget him, but I won't let it overwhelm me." Carl looked at both Mimi and Arnold, "I'll be seein' you tomorrow."

"Oh, no." Arnold piped in, "I wanna know this place better. Maybe I could sleep at yours for a bit?"

"Um, sure."

"Monsieur, may I be a nuisance?"

"Yes, you can stay here as well, Mimi."

"Well, sleeping at the bar has been unkind to my back."

"Well, I only have two beds here." Carl turned to Arnold, "You're sleeping on the chair."

"Why?"

"You called me a negro and brought up my papa's murder. That's not building a bridge between us, so to speak."

"Fair enough."

The threesome had gone to their areas of sleep and bid each other a good night. As he was sleeping, Carl had felt a bit of a chill, causing him to wake up. As he was awake, he noticed there was ice on the side of his bed, reaching the side of his cover. He followed the trail of ice to Mimi's right hand. That was the source of the ice. Carl screamed, waking Arnold and Mimi up.

"What the hell is that coming from your hand, Mimi?!" Carl yelled.

"Merde." Mimi gruntled, "I guess I shouldn't have slept like that."

"What even are you?" Arnold questioned.

"Well... how do I put this... I think that I might be a witch."


End file.
